


A Vow

by xoElle23



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Elimination Chamber, M/M, Monday Night Raw - Freeform, Universal Championship, Universal Title, WrestleMania, a tiny hint of deanee if you squint really hard, greatest royal rumble, i refuse to even tag He Who Must Not Be Named, mentions of other friends, rated M for a few curse words, rolleigns - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:25:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14786948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoElle23/pseuds/xoElle23
Summary: Inspired by all the time shit happens and WWE likes to pretend Seth and Roman have never met and wouldn’t run out to defend each other.





	A Vow

It’s all because of a promise.

A stupid promise, actually. A goddamn piece of shit horse crap fucking dumb promise.

It happened the week after Elimination Chamber. Roman had waited until Raw ended and they’d both signed autographs and taken selfies with the fans; after they’d gotten something to eat, showered, and settled in to bed at the hotel, taking a few minutes to simply come down from the day’s craziness and enjoy being in each other’s arms.

“I need you to do something for me,”

Much to Seth’s disappointment, he could tell whatever was about to be discussed wasn’t at all sexual, which was perplexing because aside from something dirty Seth truly couldn’t imagine what his lover would need to talk about. He could tell it was important though, from the way Roman had pulled back enough from their embrace to look him in the eye.

Seth let out a slow breath, frowning a bit as he finally responded.

“Okay…”

“I know things are starting to pick up for both of us at work,” Roman began, “Especially after tonight, our paths for Mania are becoming clearer.”

Seth nodded. Ever since he’d won the Elimination Chamber Roman had been getting ready for his match against Brock Lesnar, calling the other man out for not being around and arguing with Paul Heyman while Seth was heading into a feud for the Intercontinental Championship with Finn Balor and the Miz. Of course a small part of him wished he was the one going for the Universal title, but he was also beyond proud of his man for winning a title shot at Wrestlemania. Plus, this way they could both leave the Grandest Stage of Them All as champions (and maybe indulge in a longtime fantasy of fucking with nothing but the belts on).

“There’s gonna be a lot of shit starting,” the Samoan continued, “You know as well as I do Lesnar isn’t gonna let that title go without a dog fight, and I wanna take as much pleasure as I can ripping it from his hands-” he let out a small laugh as his boyfriend surged forward, kissing him deeply.

“I like when you talk like that,” Seth murmured against his lips, clearly not the least bit sorry for interrupting, “It’s sexy as hell,”

“You’re sexy as hell,” Roman returned, dropping another quick kiss before pulling back and blurting, “You can’t help.”

“What?” Instantly Seth’s arms fell from their position around his shoulders while his face filled with confusion and a bit of hurt, “What the hell does that mean?”

“You can’t come out and back me up,” Roman elaborated, reaching for the other man’s hands as he tried to explain, “Look, we both know this thing is gonna get ugly- it already is. This is something that started over three years ago and never really got proper closure. Don’t,” he put a finger to Seth’s mouth as it began to open, already aware of what he was about to say and having no desire to go over it again. They’d had many discussions both in private and with Ambrose since Seth’s cash in at Mania 31, and the event and Seth’s betrayal in its entirety was a thing of the past. Hell, Roman and Dean had even admitted that, personal issues aside, the move was pretty fucking epic.

“You know what I mean. It’s only gonna get worse from here. You know how tired I am of having a champion that’s never around- I’m gonna do everything I can to make the rest of the locker room and the fans see it that way too.”

Seth nodded, still unsure of why this meant he needed to apparently not get involved. He was completely on board with everything Roman said. Shit, so was a good percentage of the locker room. Even if some of their coworkers weren’t Roman’s biggest fans and hadn’t wanted him to win the Elimination Chamber, they were ready for a champion that actually showed up on a regular basis.

“And you know I’m with you all the way,” Seth promised.

“I know, baby. And you know that means the world to me,” Roman pecked the smaller man’s nose before continuing, “But this has to be something I do on my own.”

“…alright,” Rollins let out a small sigh but relented with a nod. It made sense that Roman wanted to do this without help and Seth fully believed he could and would, so while it sucked it wasn’t too ridiculous to suggest. Plus, since Dean’s injury nearly two and a half months ago the reboot of The Shield had been placed on hold and he and Roman were doing the singles thing anyway. “I won’t come out for the match,”

Roman frowned. The other man wasn’t getting his meaning and it broke his heart to actually say it out loud.

“Seth, you can’t come out at all,” he corrected, “No promos, no matches, nothing. And you can’t come defend me if anything goes south. Even if I’m getting my ass handed to me.”

“Wait a minute, you’re saying if Lesnar gets the upper hand and starts beating the shit out of you, I can’t come out?” Seth demanded, pulling away to glare at the other man, “What if he has back-up, Roman? Or Heyman makes some sort of deal and he’s got people backstage? They’re both so far up Vince’s ass you know he’ll give them whatever they ask for. What, I’m just supposed to stay back and watch you get hurt? That’s bullshit.”

“I have to do this my way. This is a two-man game, Seth. Him and me- that’s it. Nobody else can be involved.”

Seth cocked an eyebrow, “What about Heyman?” he questioned, causing Roman to shake his head.

“Heyman might be an asset at times, but at the end of the day there’s only two people in the ring,” he replied, “When Lesnar gets taken out, it has to be by my hands alone.”

“So what, this is all for your pride?” Seth scoffed, unable to believe what he was hearing, “Roman, come on!”

“It’s more than just my pride, Seth! It’s my dignity, my livelihood; it’s everything I’ve ever stood for!” Roman exclaimed, “It’s about a rivalry that’s gone on for years and finally proving once and for all who’s top dog around here. This is for me, it’s for you, it’s for Dean, our families, the fans, and everyone in that locker room!” his volume lowered significantly, eyes pleading for the man before him to understand, “This is about what’s right and proving that title still has value and holding it stands for something bigger than just one person. This is what we do, Seth. We fight because it’s what we love and because it means something,” he reached forward, grateful when his boyfriend didn’t yank his hands away again, “I have to do this.”

Seth grimaced down at the bed sheets. “If Dean were here-” he began, only for Roman to cut him off.

“Nothing would change,” he interrupted calmly, “I plan on telling him the same thing when I talk to him next. Whether he comes by to visit or gets cleared early, nobody else can get involved. Not you, Dean, the twins, anybody,” Roman let out a small breath. “I know this is gonna be brutal,” he promised, “Lesnar wants to break Punk’s streak and putting an end to that isn’t gonna come without a little pain. But I’m ready.” He leaned forward, letting their foreheads rest together.

“I have to do this,” he whispered, “It’s time.”

The entire situation blows, basically. Especially because Seth knows he can’t fault him for a word he said and what’s more, if the roles were reversed, Roman would respect his wishes and stay back. Hell, he already did when Seth had been fighting with Finn Balor for the very same belt years prior.

“I fucking hate you, Roman Reigns,” he pouts, finally allowing their eyes to meet again and making the other man laugh.

“I know,” he promises fondly, “But you love me too.”

“Yeah,” Seth leans forward to meet him for another kiss, “I really do.”

…

As expected, the promise sucks.

At first it seems like maybe fulfilling Roman’s wishes won’t be too difficult since Brock is never around. There’s much less of a chance for something to go south when it’s just back and forth with Heyman on the mic. Seth does get heated after Vince suspends Roman from Raw the following week, but he holds his tongue when the Samoan assures him it’ll be fine.

“They’re not used to someone calling them out,” Roman says patiently while packing up his belongings in the locker room. “It’s understandable. Not acceptable, but understandable. They’ll figure it out, even if I have to force the point,” He leans forward to peck Seth’s lips twice. “I’ll meet you back at the hotel. See if I can get us an upgrade to something with a Jacuzzi tub to celebrate you kicking Finn’s ass.”

…

But when US Marshalls appear the week after and put Roman in handcuffs, Seth isn’t so comfortable anymore. And when Brock comes out and attacks him with his hands bound, things get ugly backstage as well.

“HE CAN’T USE HIS FUCKING HANDS!” Seth shouts, unable to understand why no one else is as upset as he is about the situation. “And they’ve got some second-rate security guards and a few refs out there? What the hell, man?!” His heart nearly breaks in two as the man he loves is put on a stretcher, a bit of comfort coming at the sight of the Beast Incarnate seemingly having his fill of unnecessary torture only to be ripped away when Lesnar apparently reconsiders and heads back towards the ring.

“Seth, try to calm down-” Sasha gives him a look of sympathy as she and a few others block the locker room door. While loving him with all his heart, Roman knew the likelihood of Seth losing his cool was high and had taken precaution and spread word to a handful of their friends in advance.

“He’s on a goddamn stretcher, dude! This isn’t okay!” the Architect exclaims, searching for some way to release his fury at the situation, “Let me out!”

Apollo frowns, “Sorry man, Roman made us promise,”

“Fuck promises! There was nothing about stretchers in the stupid promise!” Letting out another swear, Seth throws a kick against the locker’s wooden paneling. “He needs help!”

“Honey, he has to do this himself,” Nia says gently, quickly echoed by Matt Hardy.

“She speaks the truth! It is a quest indeed the Large Canine himself must complete without the aid of even his most beloved,” Matt places his hands together, tone full of serenity as he speaks with complete confidence, “Though fear not, he who seeks the Title of Intercontinents! I have foreseen this journey’s end and can guarantee that after the necessary trials and tribulations have been conquered your suitor will indeed emerge triumphant!”

For a moment the room is silent, everyone turning to stare at the self-proclaimed Woken Warrior until finally Seth snaps out of it and questions, “Who the hell even let you in here?”

(It’s once Roman is being wheeled out to the awaiting ambulance and demands Seth stay for the rest of the show that he manages to calm down a bit simply because the other man is able to speak. The only reason he doesn’t ignore the instructions and head to the hospital anyway is because Mike Kanellis agrees to go in his place and keep him updated and Roman threatens to ban Seth from his bedside.)

…

“I should never have agreed to this,” It’s the following week that Seth is once again watching chaos unfold on the locker room’s tiny television screen.

“You know as well as I do if you go out there he’d never forgive you,” Dean Ambrose’s voice barks from the cell phone speaker, “Once he makes up his mind there’s no changing it. He’s a hard head like you.”

Seth doesn’t even bother arguing. It’s a trait all three of them have in common and they know it. “Yeah well, his head is giving me an ulcer,”

“He can handle it, Uce.  Look, he’s holding his own, see? Totally fine,” Rollins can almost hear his best friend grimace a minute later when Roman goes flying through the stairs. “Shit that looked painful,”

“You’re really a big help, man. I can’t say it enough,” he comments dryly.

“Suck it up, Princess. He’s taking a couple bumps, not being permanently confined to a wheelchair. Get him some ice and maybe a shot of whiskey for yourself and quit the crying.”

Seth sits forward in his folding chair and stares at the monitor intensely, his left leg bouncing with nerves, “Get up, Roman. Come on, sit up,” he murmurs, letting out a sigh of relief when the other man slowly begins to rise.

“See! What I tell ya?”

“Dean, shut the fuck up.”

…

There almost isn’t even time to panic at Wrestlemania simply because everything happens so fast.

After an endless (epic) week in New Orleans, Sunday is spent doing last minute press and getting ready until show time.

Fresh off his triple threat victory, when the finale comes Seth is beaming from ear to ear as he watches the love of his life walk out to thousands of screaming fans. It’s obvious the Big Dog isn’t super over at the moment, but to Seth it doesn’t matter if he gets the crowd reaction of Daniel Bryan or Tommaso Ciampa. Love him or hate him, Roman Reigns owns this yard and everyone watching live in Louisiana and around the world through the WWE Network is about to see why.

It isn’t easy to watch. Roman kicks ass obviously, but after the third F5 Seth can tell the battle is wearing on him. Which is expected, of course, however throughout the entire match he can’t shake the feeling that something is off. Roman is on fire as usual, but there’s something in the air Seth can’t quite describe that has him shifting the Intercontinental title over his shoulder uneasily as he watches among countless other Superstars just past gorilla position backstage.

“Fuck,” the word slips out of his mouth without warning when red begins to seep at the Samoan’s hairline, and he can’t even bring himself to care that countless higher ups are milling around to hear his profanity. It’s clear from the hushed murmur of his peers he isn’t the only one starting to get anxious.

“That’s… a lot of blood,” Bayley points out nervously, Natalya nodding in agreement from her place nearby.

“Was that spot planned?” she asks, glancing to Jimmy and Jey Uso, who both shrug, and then Seth for an answer. But the Architect can only shake his head. Everyone knows Roman isn’t the type to go for gore or special effects; he’s been raised to always showcase talent over anything else. Besides, Seth knows that every attempt to contact Brock to map out the match had gone unanswered by the self-proclaimed mayor of Suplex City.

“…he’s not moving,” Renee breaks the silence after a few more minutes when Lesnar lands another F5, this time through the announce table. Even Dean, who can be seen connected via FaceTime on the phone in her hand, is looking a bit paler than usual.

Xavier Woods shakes his head. “He’s good, he’s just taking a second to regroup,” the gamer attempts to reassure the room as well as himself, staring on.

“Yeah,” The twins force themselves to nod, backing up the sentiment, “He’s got this,”

…

To everyone’s shock, Seth doesn’t try to rush out when the ref finally counts to three. Instead he remains silent, feet slowly moving until his back hits a concrete wall, the gleaming white belt slipping as he stares ahead with a blank face.

He didn’t expect this. He was prepared for a lot of things to happen tonight, but never did the possibility even cross his mind that Roman would lose.

He wants to throw up. He wants to scream and cry and throw a fit like a child whose mother refuses to buy them candy in the grocery store. Not because he’s upset with Roman for losing, but because of the situation as a whole.

This shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Lesnar was supposed to drop the title and go back to the UFC- that was what everyone heard. That was the plan. So something had to have changed. Except Roman would have told him if that had happened, there was no doubt in Seth’s mind. So what the hell happened out there?

The crowd of Superstars has spread out by the time the performers are arriving backstage, a handful giving Brock polite applause when he appears. The reigning champion barely spares anyone a look, shaking hands with Vince and a few other big wigs before making his way through the parted crowd, Heyman at his heels like that of an obedient Golden Retriever. 

It takes a little longer for Roman to arrive, a towel in one hand soaked with blood and a look of pure defeat clear on his face. His gaze is locked on the floor, unable and unwilling to look anyone in the eye until Samoa Joe of all people slowly begins to applaud. One by one the rest of the roster joins in, as well as a large part of the crew, meeting his eyes as they shower him with respect.

Roman sucks in a breath, doing his best to hold back the tears already building. While Vince only offers a solemn nod of the head, Hunter steps forward and pulls the other man into a hug, quickly murmuring words no one else can hear before releasing him with a pat on the back and push towards his peers.

The Superstars keep it brief, offering a few words of encouragement or a clap on the shoulder as he passes. Everyone knows what it’s like to come off of a huge match on the opposite side of victory, so the rest of the talent quickly disperses to finish their own tasks and give Roman his space.

It’s Seth that meets him at the end of the line, of course, finally having snapped out of his revere when Roman reaches him. Rather than speak he simply turns to the concerned ref nearby and holds up a hand, silently asking for five minutes before having the wound examined at medical. Receiving a quick nod in response, he follows Roman to their shared locker room and twists the lock behind him, dropping the title onto his bag before letting out a breath as his back hits the door.

For a moment there’s nothing but heavy silence, a small groan slipping from Roman’s lips as he lowers himself to a plush sofa in the corner the only audible sound.

Naturally, because he’s Seth Rollins and it’s what he does, Seth speaks first.

“I love you,” he announces, taking no offense when he receives  zero response from the other man’s bowed head, “There’s a lot more I want to say, and we both know I will eventually, but right now I’m just gonna say that I love you and I’m here and that’s never gonna change.”

A few beats pass before Roman opens his eyes, face rising as Seth crosses the room and crouches down in front of him. Rollins holds back a sob when their gazes connect. The other man’s face is the picture of a broken human being. A few tears have escaped and roll down his cheeks, devastation and frustration and humiliation just a few of the emotions radiating from his person.

“I didn’t know,” Roman’s voice is garbled, thick with physical and emotional exhaustion when he finally speaks, “They changed their mind and nobody told me. He was coming down the ramp when the ref pulled me aside.” He shakes his head, almost as if he himself can’t believe the situation. “I didn’t know,”

And because he isn’t sure what else can be done in this type of scenario, Seth just pulls him into his arms and lets him cry.

…

As much as he wants to believe the worst is over, Seth knows once Mania ends things aren’t going to ease up any time soon. The Greatest Royal Rumble is announced to be taking place in Saudi Arabia in just three weeks time, including a Wrestlemania rematch for the Universal Championship inside of a cell.

By now Roman is over his sad phase. He isn’t the type to feel sorry for himself anyway, but he has moments of weakness from time to time like anyone else because he’s human. Once those are over though, it’s back to protecting his yard and being the warrior everyone knows him to be.

And of course, now more fired up than ever, he’s also hellbent on Seth still staying out of it. Luckily Brock doesn’t show up (shocker) until the Raw before the Rumble, and even then somehow things manage not to get out of hand. So it isn’t as difficult.

Then they go to Saudi Arabia.

Don’t get him wrong, Seth totally loves the UAE. The cities are beautiful, the culture is incredible, and the people and the fans they meet are the best.

But some complete and total horse shit goes down at the Greatest Royal Rumble.

It’s not confusing. There’s not a debate. The rules announced before the match clearly state the first contestant’s feet to hit the floor is the winner.

Roman’s feet hit the floor first.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it. It’s on freaking film.

But of course, by sheer coincidence and one of the only recorded times in history, the ref makes the wrong call.

Naturally, Seth is livid. He manages to remain in the back, but the locker room is rather impressed with the extensive vocabulary of curse words he throws out. Titus O’Neal even quietly reminds him they are indeed in a foreign country as guests and trying to make a good impression not just as a company but as individuals, so he does lower his volume slightly, but his peers still wear masks of surprise at his vast collection of swears.

Roman doesn’t even know how to react. He’s so exhausted at this point, between the physicality of the match and the mental fatigue, not to mention their bodies are all thrown off by the time difference, all they can do when they return to the hotel is exchange a few tender kisses and pass out in bed.

…

The following day on Raw, when they make the announcement that they won’t be reversing the call, everyone expects an encore of the previous evening’s tirade but Seth can’t even muster up the energy. Like Roman, he’s tired. He’s very, very tired. Hell, by now he’s barely surprised.

He does get pissed off when Bobby Lashley and Braun Strowman of all people get to run out and help defend Roman, and that they get to tag with him against Owens, Zayn, and Jinder. Because yeah, Seth gets that he’s doing his thing with Miz and Finn and the IC title and it’s epic, but he hasn’t completely forgotten Roman exists. Like seriously, Braun Strowman? Didn’t Roman try to run him over with an ambulance a while back?

But of course Braun didn’t make a promise to stay in the back and the man adores any excuse to beat the shit out of someone, so when management calls for him to head out and assist the Big Dog he doesn’t have to think twice.

Damn semantics.

…

It’s clear by now Brock won’t be dropping the belt any time soon, no matter what happens. Not until he beats and seemingly erases Punk’s record from the history books, outcome of the matches be damned. Management won’t allow any other result as a possibility. It’s crap and it’s unfair, not just to Roman but to the entire locker room and the fans, but they can’t change anything. So really, they might as well not waste time crying about it.

All they can do is show up every day and do their best to put on an amazing show for the fans time and time again and have as much fun as possible in the process. That’s why they got into this business in the first place: because they love what they do. Not because of notoriety or fame or ugly red belts, but because it makes people happy, makes them feel alive, and because it’s _so much fun_ every single time _._

Every night they lay in bed, almost unable to tell whose limbs belong to whom in the tangled mess under hotel sheets, bodies pressed tight up against one another, they make sure to remember that.

When the time is right, Roman will get his turn with the Universal championship; whether that’s next week, next month, or ten years from now, it’ll happen. And it’ll be the ride of a lifetime and Seth will be the first one out to the ring to celebrate.

Until then, at the end of the day, they have each other.

And as it happens, compared to that, the glory of a title is practically insignificant.

**_fin._ **


End file.
